


my new adventure

by ecubed



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Boys Kissing, Confessions, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Humor, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, NCT Dream Ensemble-centric, Park Jisung (NCT)-centric, Romance, halloween party, i am bad at tagging overtag or undertag that is the question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecubed/pseuds/ecubed
Summary: Jaemin claps Jisung on the shoulder, hard enough that it feels like a warning. “You need to be more open to new experiences,” he says, his words aggressively cheerful. “It might be exactly what you need to finally get over your crush on Chenle.”Jisung's friends want him to have an adventure. Jisung just wants to kiss his best friend.(A halloween fic nobody asked for)
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 10
Kudos: 215





	my new adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> So I was going through my drafts and I found this. Apparently I wrote it in October and somehow completely erased its existence from my brain, because I have no recollection of writing it. I know it’s nowhere near Halloween but I might as well post this, because time isn’t real and why not. It’s unedited word-vomit, but I have no plans to fix it, so I hope you enjoy it either way. 
> 
> Just your standard chenji fluff, because we all need more softness in our lives right now.

“I don’t see why we can’t all just go together,” Jisung complains.

“Because it’ll be more fun that way,” Jaemin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He slings an arm over Jisung’s shoulder. “Think of it, Jisungie. You arrive at the party. You don’t know who your friends are. You don’t know who your enemies are.” His voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “The night is pregnant with possibility.”

Jisung gags. “That is the worst combination of words I’ve ever heard.” 

“I thought it was kind of poetic,” Jeno says from the couch, where he’s tucked up against Renjun’s side.

“You would,” Jisung mutters.

“You’re missing the point, Ji,” Jaemin says excitedly. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, and the smile on his face fills Jisung with dread. “No one will know who you are. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want and nobody will know that it’s you. Not even us.” His fingers squeeze Jisung’s shoulder. “Think of how freeing that could be. You could have an adventure.” 

Jisung ducks out from under Jaemin’s arm, and sighs. “Are you forgetting how awkward I am? Because I feel like you are.” 

Jaemin glares at him, then his face turns mischievous. “Who knows,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe you’ll end up making out with a sexy lizard or something.” 

“There is no such thing as a sexy lizard,” Jisung huffs. “And we both know exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going to spend my entire night hiding away in a corner because my friends abandoned me.” 

Jaemin’s idea sounded great in theory, but Jisung to adventure was like tuna to ice-cream - the two simply did not mix no matter how much some hipster fusion chef tried to convince you otherwise. 

Jaemin claps Jisung on the shoulder, hard enough that it feels like a warning. “You need to be more open to new experiences,” he says, his words aggressively cheerful. “It might be exactly what you need to get over your crush on Chenle.” 

“Shhh,” Jisung hisses, eyes darting around the room in panic. 

Renjun rolls his eyes at Jisung’s panicked expression. “You’re ridiculous. He’s not even here. You know he has a dentist appointment.”

Jisung blushes. He turns to Jaemin. “Please tell me what you're going as,” he pleads. He clutches at Jaemin’s arm, makes his eyes as big as possible, pouts in that way that he knows Jaemin can’t resist. “I’ll make out with as many lizard people as you want, just don’t leave me alone at the party.”

“Nope,” Jaemin says. “This is for your own good.” He seems completely unaffected by Jisung’s display. Perhaps he’s losing his touch. 

“Jeno?” Jisung asks hopefully.

Renjun pinches Jeno’s side. “Don’t even think about it, babe,” he warns.

Jeno shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, Ji, my fear of what Renjun might do is stronger than my desire to help you.”

“Yeah, god forbid that he stops sucking your face for two seconds,” Jisung snaps. “That would be a real tragedy.”

“I know,” Jeno says seriously.

Jisung hurls himself into an armchair, flopping down despondently. “You all suck,” he grumbles. “And we’ll see who’s laughing when Jeno mistakes someone else for Renjun, and ends up in a passionate embrace with Yangyang.”

“That’s not funny,” Renjun says dangerously, fingers curling up in the fabric of Jeno’s green sweater. 

Jisung is suddenly struck with a thought. “I bet Chenle will tell me what he’s going as,” he says. 

The thought makes him feel instantly better.

***

Chenle does not tell him what he’s going as.

“Jaemin’s right - costumes and anonymity could be fun,” he says, ignoring the sad pouty look on Jisung’s face.

That’s the second time the pout has betrayed him. Something is very wrong here. 

Jisung grips Chenle’s arm, shaking him gently. “Please, Chenle,” he whines. “I won’t have fun without you.”

“You should try,” Chenle says, prising Jisung’s fingers from his arm. “Maybe you’ll meet someone nice, make a new friend. Maybe something more.”

Jisung feels a lump rise in his throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice comes out sounding strained, and Chenle’s words make him feel sick. It’s almost exactly what Jaemin had told him earlier, yet somehow it’s worse - _so much worse_ \- when the words come out of Chenle’s mouth. 

Chenle laughs, knocking his shoulder lightly against Jisung’s. “Stop frowning. It doesn’t mean anything. Only that you’re allowed to have other friends, other _people_. It’s fun. And you deserve that.”

That doesn’t make Jisung feel any better. The tightness in Jisung’s chest intensifies, crushing his ribs, and making it hard to breathe. 

He already has his people - he has Renjun and Jeno, he has Jaemin, Donghyuck, Mark when he remembers that they exist, and he has _Chenle_ \- he doesn’t need anyone else. It might just be that he’s still so young, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever want - _need_ \- anyone as much as he wants Chenle. Can’t imagine anyone even coming close.

It hurts to think that Chenle might not feel the same way. He smiles at Chenle, even though it’s the last thing he feels like doing. “Thanks, but think I’m ok with what I have right now,” he says casually. It’s the truest, bravest thing he’s said in a long time, and Jisung is kind of impressed when his voice quavers only a little.

Chenle gives him the strangest look, long and searching enough that Jisung feels himself shrink under it, the tops of his ears prickling with heat. Jisung feels his heart pick up, and it almost feels like _a moment,_ but then Chenle rolls his eyes and the feeling disappears as quickly as it started. 

“Alright, Mr. Anti-social,” Chenle says. “But I’m still not telling you what my costume is.”

It’s not exactly what Jisung had wanted to hear, but he can’t feel too disappointed when Chenle slips his arm into Jisung’s, and drags him towards the kitchen, placating him with promises of a hotpot spicy enough that Jisung would never be able to taste anything ever again.

***

Jisung gives his reflection a final look. 

He looks… _fine._

The black marching-band-slash-military style jacket he’d pinched from the back of Chenle’s closet, the tight black jeans and the combat boots fit him well enough. His eyes are rimmed thickly with black eyeliner, and he’d used coloured hairspray to turn his hair a bright fire-engine red. It’s not a perfect reproduction, but Jisung thinks he could almost pass as a member of My Chemical Romance, and that’s good enough for him.

He doesn’t really want to go - can’t imagine he’s going to get a taste of any of that adventure that Jaemin so wants for him - but he has no excuses left.

His professors hadn’t even had the decency to overload him with assignments so that he could wriggle his way out of the party, and he’s too honest, too afraid of disappointing others, to just not show up. Not when Jaemin had texted him 15 thumbs up emojis, and Jeno had sent him a reassuring message telling him that if he’d ended up having a really terrible time, he and Renjun wouldn’t be hard to recognise - Jisung could trust him on that. 

He casts a wistful glance at his computer and sighs, shoving his wallet deep into his back pocket. His jeans are so tight that it’s a struggle to get it to fit, but once he does, he realises he has no more excuses to delay leaving the house. It’s already nine o’clock, so he’s put it off long enough.

He might as well get this over with. 

****

The first thing Jisung does when he arrives at the party is head straight for the kitchen to grab himself a beer. There’s no way he’s about to face this completely sober. 

The kitchen is crammed with people, and Jisung has to fight his way out of the small room. It’s a miracle that he manages to get out without spilling his beer. 

He pushes through the crowd and finds an empty spot against the wall, by the couch that had been pushed back so that people could dance. He takes a sip of his beer (cheap and disgusting) and bops his head to the music. He scans the room, not knowing what to do with himself. 

He could go and dance. That seems like a safe option - but he was a dancer, and his moves from dance class didn’t exactly translate well to a party setting. Somehow he always ended up looking stiff and awkward, and he didn’t need any blows to his confidence right now. With his luck, he’d probably pop his elbow right into someone’s face. 

Approaching a stranger is also out of the question. He has no idea how Jaemin does it. He makes it look so easy.

He lasts all of about ten minutes before he decides that it’s time to take Jeno up on his offer. At this point, third-wheeling with him and Renjun seems like a much better option than hiding away in a corner for the rest of the night.

He drains the rest of his beer, and sets off to find his friends.

It doesn’t take long for him to spot Jeno and Renjun. Jeno hadn’t lied - the two of them were easy to recognise. 

“A cat?” Jisung sighs. “Seriously?”

Jeno turns to him. “What’s wrong with that?” he asks, frowning. “I think he looks cute.”

Jeno is wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt, his hands wrapped with tape. He’s a boxer or something, and he looks good. Jisung wishes he could look that good. Maybe then his best friend would also be in love with him. 

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Of course you do.” Jeno would think Renjun looked cute if he was wearing a garbage bag (but then again, so would Jisung). 

“What are you doing here hanging out with us,” Renjun asks curiously. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there having an adventure?”

“That was Jaemin’s idea not mine. I came and I’m wearing a costume, that’s as adventurous as I get.” 

“It’s a nice costume,” Jeno tells him. “It’s that band you like. My Panicked Romance, yeah?”

Jisung closes his eyes, and breathes in through his nose. “My Chemical Romance,” he corrects, gritting his teeth. He’s only been trying to get his friends to listen to them for the past few months, and they couldn’t even get the name right.

“Though My Panicked Romance seems more accurate for you,” Renjun points out, smirking.

“You two are the worst.”

“And yet here you are,” Renjun says. “Hanging out with us.”

“Only because I have no other options,” Jisung retorts. He hesitates for a moment. “Do you know if Chenle is here?”

Renjun shrugs. “No idea.”

“Then do you at least know what his costume is?” 

Renjun shakes his head apologetically, but Jeno seems to tense at the questions. “Nope,” he says quickly. “No clue.”

Jisung’s eyes narrow. “You are _lying._ ”

“No, I’m not,” Jeno insists.

“I don’t know how you got those commercials, you are a terrible actor.”

Renjun pats Jeno’s cheek fondly. “It’s the face.”

“Hey.” Jeno’s face flushes. “Don’t objectify me.”

Renjun grins. “You love it.”

Jisung wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Like I said, you two are the worst.”

Renjun pulls his gaze away from Jeno. “You should try and find Chenle.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me,” Jisung complains.

“No, we’re not,” Jeno denies.

That’s a lie. 

But Jisung can’t blame them - when was Jeno ever going to get another chance to make-out with cat-Renjun. And he might be in love with Chenle, but even he can admit that Jeno looks incredible, and he’s amazed that Renjun hasn’t dragged him off to some dark corner yet.

Jisung sighs, resigned. “Fine, I’ll go look for Chenle.”

“Good luck,” Renjun says, ruffling his hair. 

“We love you,” Jeno calls after him.

( _That_ is not a lie.)

***

Finding Chenle isn’t easy. He scans the living room, checks the upstairs corridors, but he can’t find anyone matching Chenle’s height and build. He’s sure Chenle would have told him if he wasn’t going to come, but there are no new messages on his phone. It worries him.

He heads back towards the kitchen, grabs another beer. Jisung ambles aimlessly through the house, before slipping out the back door. It’s cold enough outside that the backyard is almost deserted. Most people aren’t masochistic enough to brave the chilly air, but Jisung would take this over the stuffy crush of bodies any day. 

The night is crisp and cloudless. Jisung wraps his jacket tightly around himself, and takes a seat on the porch swing. He pushes against the ground with his feet, and the swing rocks gently back and forwards. The rhythm is soothing as he gazes out at the night sky, scattered with brightly twinkling stars. 

It’s pretty - healing in a way only nature can be - and it’s incredible how the vastness of the night sky can make him feel so small, but so much a part of something greater - one tiny thread in the tangled web of the universe. It’s enough to make his breath catch.

But even in his little moment of awe, Jisung can’t ignore the ache in his chest - the gnawing sensation that something is missing. 

He wishes he had someone to share this view with. Someone to sneak away from the party with. A warm solid shoulder on which to rest his head. Small fingers gently combing through the hair at the base of his neck. A sharp laugh telling him to get out of his head and stop romanticising flaming balls of gas. 

Jisung feels his grip tighten, fingers digging into the flesh of his thigh. He needs to stop this. It wasn’t doing him any good to let his imagination run wild. He takes one breath and then another, screws his eyes shut because he refuses to spend Halloween crying about how his best friend doesn’t love him.

That would be beyond pathetic. 

He pulls out his phone, scrolls through his contacts. His fingers hover hesitantly over Chenle’s name for a few seconds, then he locks his phone and shoves it deep into his pocket.

_Pathetic_.

He’s spiralling, getting lost in his increasingly despondent thoughts, when a shadow falls across his field of view.

Jisung looks up, and blinks.

_Iron Man._

He gestures to the empty spot beside Jisung. “Can I sit here?”

He’s tall - tall as Jisung at least, and his costume is a near perfect replica of the suit from the movies. It’s pretty impressive. The only inconsistency are his hands, which are bare.

Jisung shrugs. He doesn’t own the space. 

“Thanks,” Iron Man says. His voice sounds younger than Jisung had expected, but it’s impossible to be sure, since it’s muffled by the helmet. He slips into the seat beside Jisung, the swing lurching backwards with the additional weight.

Silence stretches between them, and Jisung’s skin tightens with anxiety. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do - should he say something? Or leave the other boy to his thoughts?

He’s never been good with this kind of thing - he doesn’t have Jaemin’s confidence, or Renjun’s quiet charisma - and the fear of messing up cripples whatever social skills he does have.

He almost melts with relief when the other boy clears his throat. “I like your costume,” he says. “My Chemical Romance, right?”

Jisung feels his eyes bug out in surprise. “You know them?” 

Iron Man shifts beside him. The joints of his costume creak. “My best friend won’t shut up about them. They’re not terrible.”

Jisung scoffs. “They’re amazing.”

“I like my music a little softer,” Iron Man says. “I love a good ballad.”

“That’s a perfectly valid choice,” Jisung agrees. 

“Thanks,” the other boy tells him. 

“Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing out here?” he continues. “It’s pretty cold, and you don’t look like you’re having a good time.” 

“I’m avoiding the party obviously. ” Jisung admits. “This isn’t really my kind of thing. I only came because my friends wanted me to.”

“And then they ditched you?”

“No,” Jisung says quickly. “It’s not like that.” He feels the need to defend his friends, even though he’d been thinking the same thing from the minute Jaemin had refused to tell him what his costume was. “They wanted me to meet some new people. Have some fun.”

“You don’t seem to be doing a very good job of that,” the other boy observes.

Jisung laughs, surprised. “No, I’m not.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and Jisung looks up to find Iron Man looking at him, head tilted in curiosity. “They mean well,” Jisung says quietly. “They just don’t seem to get that I’m perfectly fine with what I have now. I’m not looking for anything else.”

“Hmm,” Iron Man says slowly. “Well if you can’t get them to believe you, then why don’t you just do what they want, and get them off your back for a while?”

Jisung frowns. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Iron Man stands up and the sudden change in weight sets the swing in motion again. He holds out his hand to Jisung. “Let’s get a drink, dance for a bit, then you can go home with a clear conscience.”

Jisung hesitates. He doesn’t know this boy at all, doesn’t know who he is or what he looks like. But it’s a drink and a dance, and it would definitely help get Jaemin to leave him alone for a bit.

He takes the boy’s hand, and smiles.

He can’t see the boy’s face, but he just knows that he’s grinning back.

***

“I can’t dance,” Jisung whines, as the boy drags him onto the dance floor.

“Don’t be stupid, everyone can dance.”

“Not me,” Jisung argues. “I mean, I can follow choreography, but this is beyond me.”

“Just bounce to the beat. No one cares what you look like.”

“Until I step on them.”

The boy laughs. “Well lucky for you I’m wearing this suit. You could drop an anvil on my foot and I probably wouldn’t be able to feel it.”

***

Jisung feels surprisingly less self-conscious with the other boy around. It might have something to do with the fact that the suit makes the boy a clumsier dancer than Jisung could be. He stomps around heavily, and spends half his time apologising to everyone he accidentally barrels into. It’s a nice change to be the graceful one.

He brings Jisung a drink when they take a break, both hot and breathless from the dancing. They chat about how they both know Jaehyun who’s hosting the party (apparently they both know Jaehyun’s younger brother, Mark), the courses they’re taking, their favourite artists.

Jisung accidentally makes eye contact with Jeno across the room. When their eyes meet, Jeno throws up an enthusiastic thumbs up, and Jisung isn’t sure whether he feels more encouraged or embarrassed that the fact that he’s talking to a guy has his friends so excited. 

Once they down their drinks, Jisung’s dragged back onto the dance floor, and when the songs slow down, and the boy’s hands go to Jisung’s waist, holding him as close as possible with the bulky costume between them, Jisung feels something strange stir in his stomach, his skin burning at the contact.

It’s confusing, and too much, and the room feels suddenly too small and too loud. He leans over Iron Man.“Do you want to go outside again,” Jisung says, trying to make himself heard over the din of the party. “It’s really hot in here.”

The other boy nods, and lets Jisung lead him through the house and towards the backyard where they’d met.

The cold air hits Jisung’s heated skin, and he gratefully breathes in the fresh air, so welcome after the stuffy, stale air of the party.

After a few moments, he becomes aware that the other boy is staring at him. He turns towards him, frowning. “What is it?”

The boy shakes his head. “It’s nothing. You’re just very pretty.”

Jisung feels his cheeks grow warm. “I’m just ok. My head is too big, and my eyes are too small.”

The boy scoffs. “Stop it. Your eyes are charming.”

Jisung swallows, his mouth feels dry. He’s not sure what happens, but he finds himself reaching for the boy’s hand. It’s warm and small in his - so much smaller than you would expect with his impressive height and build. It feels familiar, so much like Chenle’s that it’s almost uncanny. 

He hates the fact that even now with a potentially cute boy’s hand in his, he’s still thinking about Chenle. Maybe Jaemin’s right, and what he needs is to just kiss someone, anyone else, to get his best friend out of his head.

But it doesn’t feel quite fair to the boy who’d come to rescue him from his own awkwardness, and who’d made him laugh more times than he could count over the course of the night. 

It’s this thought that has him pulling away, hand jerking away like he’s been burned. 

He gives the boy an apologetic look. “I had a lot of fun hanging out with you tonight, but I have to say something. I don’t know where you were hoping tonight would go, but if you were hoping to take this further, I don’t want to lead you on.”

“Oh?”

“I’m kind of in love with my best friend,” Jisung says. It comes out easier than he’d thought it would, and it feels like a relief to finally voice the feelings he’s been hiding all this time. “And I don’t think that will be going away anytime soon. Sorry.”

The boy doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Jisung turns to look at him, wondering if he’d somehow offended him, only to find him looking back at Jisung, his posture thoughtful. 

“That’s kind of funny. Because so am I,” he finally says, not taking his eyes off Jisung. “Hopelessly in love with my idiot best friend.”

Jisung can’t say anything, just stares open-mouthed at the other boy. It takes a moment for his body to react and suddenly he’s laughing because this is a new kind of ridiculous - even for him. Of all the people to latch onto he’d have to pick someone as screwed as himself. Typical. 

Jisung’s shoulders slump. “It sucks, doesn’t it?” 

“It doesn’t have to,” the other boy says quietly. “We could tell them.”

Jisung shakes his head, disbelieving. “Just how much did you drink tonight? I mean, yeah, I didn’t see you drink much, but I did go to the bathroom a few times, so who knows what you got up to while I was gone. Do you realise how badly this could go?” He closes his eyes, and a deep breath, the cold night air sharp in his throat. “You could lose him,” he adds quietly.

“Maybe not. Maybe he’s thinking the same things as me.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say to that, because yes, a point has been made. But Jisung - he has a good point too. He knows he does. It’s all risk versus reward, and it’s a question of whether Jisung is brave enough to take the chance, when the stakes are so high.

He hears the boy swallow nervously beside him. “I’m going to do it,” he says firmly. “Right now.”

Jisung’s head jerks up at that. “Is he here tonight?”

The boy snorts. “You could say that.”

Jisung frowns. “What does that mean? He’s either here or he isn’t.” 

“Jisung.”

“Yeah,” Jisung says distractedly. He turns his head to peer through the glass doors, and into the house where the party is still in full swing. He wonders if they’d passed the boy in question - whether he’d brushed up against him, apologised to him as he squeezed his way toward the bathroom. 

“Jisung,” the boy repeats. It’s sharper this time, and the tone seems familiar - the way that the exasperation draws out the syllables of his name, the trace of an accent.

Jisung’s head swims. 

He doesn’t remember telling the boy his name. 

“Chenle?” 

Iron Man nods. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Now that he’s heard it, Chenle’s voice is unmistakable, and Jisung can’t believe that he hadn’t recognised it before. 

“Can I take off my helmet?” Chenle asks. “Or are you going to freak out?”

Jisung nods. He’s already freaking out, what was a little more?

Chenle struggles with the helmet - it gets stuck somewhere around his ears, but finally he manages to pull it off. His cheeks and neck are pink from the effort, his brown hair mussed, the strands sticking up in every direction. Jisung resists the urge to smooth it down.

Chenle meets his eyes, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Hi.”

Jisung’s heart speeds up, blood pounding in his ears. “Did you mean what you said?”

Chenle’s reply is instant. “Yes. Did you?”

“And when you said you were in love with your best friend, you didn’t mean Renjun or Jeno?”

Chenle’s nose wrinkles. “Of course not. Do I have a death wish?”

Jisung thinks back to the rides Chenle had tried to convince him to go on when they’d visited that amusement park on their Shanghai trip, and shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Do I really have to spell this out for you?” Chenle complains. “I like you, Jisung Park. No one else.”

There’s a buoyant feeling in Jisung’s chest, and he feels lighter, like he’s let out a breath he’s been holding in for years. He can’t stop the smile that tugs at his lips. ”That’s a relief.”

Chenle pokes him in the ribs. “Is that all? You have nothing else to say to that? Nothing at all?”

Jisung shrugs. “You mean, that I like you too? That’s pretty obvious. Everyone else seemed to pick up on it.” 

Chenle rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I was a little bit preoccupied trying to keep my crush on my stupid best friend a s secret.”

“Yeah, and that did us a whole lot of good,” Jisung tells him.

Chenle bows his head. “You’re right,” he concedes. 

“Of course I am,” Jisung says, his expression smug. 

Chenle shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching.

Now that everything is out in the open, Jisung isn’t quite sure what to say. It’s like there’s been a fundamental shift in the relationship, and Jisung doesn’t know what that means yet. 

Silence settles between them - it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not their usual easy silence either.

When he looks over to Chenle, he can see that Chenle’s smile has dropped into something more uncertain. He clears his throat. “Are we going to be awkward about this now?”

“I’m not being awkward,” Jisung denies. “I’m just… processing. Like a computer installing new software - trying to figure out these new features to our relationship.” 

“Ok,” Chenle says slowly. “That’s a fucking weird analogy, but I get that.”

“I just can’t believe that you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

“Get over yourself.” 

Chenle reaches for Jisung’s hand, carefully laying his hand over Jisung’s, as though he’s worried Jisung might pull away. “And can you maybe process a little bit faster? I feel like I’m in this by myself.”

His voice is hesitant, and Jisung can feel the way Chenle’s fingers twitch against his hand. That’s when he realises that he isn’t the only one who’s scared, terrified of this new thing that neither of them had ever thought that they could have. He turns his hand over and entwines his fingers with Chenle’s. “You’re not. I’m right here with you.”

He shifts closer to Chenle, his thighs pressed flush against the hard plastic of Chenle’s costume. “I’m happy, but also terrified, and unsure,” he says. “It’s ok to be scared right now - I am. But I know we’ll figure this out together.”

“I’m not scared,” Chenle denies.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. 

Chenle sighs. “Ok, fine. Maybe a little.” He pauses. “But it’s a good scared, I think.”

“Like a rollercoaster?” 

Chenle laughs. “Something like that.”

Chenle’s staring at him fondly, and Jisung feels something warm stir in his stomach.

He sees Chenle’s gaze drop to his lips, and he can’t help himself. He might like (love) Chenle, but Chenle’s still his best friend, and he’s never going to let a chance to tease him pass him by. “Thinking about kissing me?”

Chenle’s eyes go wide. “What, no -” he sputters. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe?” He drops his head into his hands. “Oh my god,” he groans. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Jisung bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh. He pulls Chenle’s hands from his face, and tilts his chin up to look at him. 

“It’s ok if you were,” he says gently. “I want you to think about it. I have.”

Chenle blinks. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Chenle lets out a shuddery breath. “Ok,” he says quietly. 

He fixes Jisung with a serious look. “It’s just that I need to know that you’re not just doing things because you think it’ll make me happy. You do that a lot.”

Jisung considers Chenle’s words for a moment. He wants this - has wanted it for as long as he can remember. But he understands what Chenle is getting at. Chenle has always been the initiator - dragging Jisung to try new restaurants, pushing him to audition for the dance team, even convincing him to dye his hair blue that one time in high school. He’d wanted those things - wouldn’t have agreed otherwise - but he can see how it must look to Chenle. 

Jisung takes a breath, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He turns his body so that he’s facing Chenle, and leans his forehead against the other boy’s, ignoring the look of surprise that crosses Chenle’s face. “I am going to kiss you,” he says, trying to keep his voice from betraying how nervous he feels. “Is that ok?”

Chenle nods. Jisung feels the warmth of his breath fan against his cheek. “Ok,” he says, more to himself than to Chenle. His eyes flutter shut, and he closes the remaining distance between them, gently pressing his lips to Chenle’s. Chenle’s lips are dry, but plush under his, and Jisung is reluctant to pull away. “Was that ok?”

Chenle’s eyes fly open, and his lips curve into a teasing smile. “Could have been better.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Always.” 

Jisung doesn’t respond, just leans in again. It’s less gentle this time, now that they both know that they’re on the same page. Chenle’s hands cup his face, and his lips part easily under Jisung’s. It’s hot and wet and perfect, and it sets something smouldering in the pit of Jisung’s stomach. He’s burning up, and he suddenly wishes he’d worn fewer layers - he can’t imagine how Chenle’s feeling, trapped in his plastic greenhouse of a costume. 

When they pull apart, they’re both a little breathless. Chenle’s lips are shiny with spit, and Jisung has an overwhelming urge to rub his thumb across Chenle’s full lower lip. Then he remembers that he can - so he does. 

Chenle jerks away, laughing. 

When they’ve both caught their breaths, Chenle looks up at him. “You know, I was a bit worried that kissing you would feel weird. Considering I’ve seen you puke your guts out after you ate two buckets of ice-cream, and I’ve seen you through that unfortunate phase where you wore nothing but knee-length shorts. But it wasn’t that weird.”

“That’s a relief.” 

Chenle squeezes his hand. “But-” his eyes twinkle. “Maybe we should double-check just to make sure.”

Jisung shakes his head in exasperation, but as he lets himself be pulled in for another kiss, he can’t help but think that perhaps _this_ could be his new adventure.

***

(“ _How did you know it was me?”_

_“Eyeliner is not a disguise, Jisung. And did you think I wouldn’t recognise my own jacket? I’m not that stupid.”)_

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos always appreciated
> 
> Like/hate let me know :)


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